Claim
by ladyChikara
Summary: Daryan never shared well with others, especially when it came to Klavier. DxK, implied KxK, yaoi, one shot


Okay, I forgot to upload this one the other day. So why not upload it now rather than never? I originally wrote this for a close friend of mine since we roleplay DaryanxKlavier and it's our OTP.

I'm not making any money off of this, I don't own any characters, etc. Don't sue, etc.

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Daryan never learned to play well with others. Daryan never learned to share anything (other than his bed, that is.) Daryan was a rockstar and was used to getting what he wanted. There were few things in this world he didn't approve of (when he didn't really give a damn.) One of them was Kristoph Gavin.

For every moment he thought of the defense lawyer, Daryan almost had a stroke. Not because Kristoph was an uptight douche bag that needs to choke and fall off the face of the earth, it's the fact that he was very controlling over his little brother, Klavier, in and out of the office.

It was almost on accident (even though it was about 85% suspicion and 15% "I demand to know this shit!") that Daryan found out what kind of "control" he had over his younger sibling. It was more or less of a "don't ask, don't tell" kind of situation. … No it wasn't. It was a "don't ask because I can't tell you since Kristoph will go ape shit and kill you" kind of situation. Daryan Cresend did not approve.

_"I'm going to see Kristoph for lunch."_ He remembered Klavier saying this to him earlier. Uh-uh. This wasn't going to fly. He would be leaving soon too. Hmmm… The guitarist couldn't help but grin evilly

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"Wh-Wha-" Klavier clutched the kitchen counter and tried to ignore the sudden grip on his crotch from behind. "He-H-"

"Gavin." Daryan sounded like a predator, territorial and hungry. "Who else would it fucking be?" Your damn brother? He happened to slip his fingertips past the blonde's perfect white teeth. "It's only Daryan."

"Herr Cresh-" He could barely speak behind those fingers. The grip on his groin tightened slightly. "Ah!"

"Do I frighten you?" He had his usual smirk on that sharp face. "Aww.. Am I getting a little too rough for the princess? That was nothing, darling." Daryan pulled the blonde away from the counter, stepping backwards a few steps and watching the blonde stumble after him.

Ha. This was almost too funny. There was Klavier Gavin, the lead singer of the Gavinners. He had it all together. He was a man with a plan. He was never unnerved. He was never caught off guard. He was never nervous, never paranoid, self-conscious, humiliated, stripped of everything, pinned, taken over, begging, writhing, moaning, Oh God, yes, _Daryan.._

Grabbing the singer's arms, Daryan threw Klavier to the linoleum floor with a very audible thud. He almost looked beautiful, Daryan caught himself thinking, laying there, blazer a mess and wrinkled, hair slightly swayed from that perfect point, shirt riding up showing those abs… Nah, he didn't look beautiful. He looked fucking **delicious. **

Feeling himself being straddled, Klavier tried sitting up in protest. No. Not here, not now. Maybe later. He had plans to be with his brother for only a lunch date. He had plans to talk to Kristoph about this… "deal." He couldn't stop thinking about it. It was all for Daryan's sake.

_"Let him touch you, brother, and he'll have to deal with the dire consequences."_

"Nein.. Bitt-" He was cut off when his shoulders were pinned to the tile roughly. He couldn't help but stare up at the guitarist. That look in his eyes. It was almost… frightening, that harsh demand in his dark irises. They were like Kristoph's but different. Something along the lines of "No, stay here" rather than "No, don't you dare stop."

"You're not going anywhere, Gavin. Do you understand me?" Daryan growled, leaning down to the man's neck. He dragged his teeth along the exposed skin, feeling the slightly elevated skin because of the superficial muscle. The tip of his tongue teased, licked and felt. It tasted, savored and drank. It drove Daryan into absolute madness. It dipped Klavier into arousing insanity. They needed more, so, so much more.

Daryan grabbed the button down shirt beneath the plum blazer and pulled it open roughly, sending a barrage of buttons all over the room. "You have plenty shirts." He couldn't help but choke out. Whoa, that was new. Back to business. His hand reached beneath the cotton and felt the soft tan skin. His fingertips glided over the pectorals, the abdominals and down to button of his pants. Undoing it quickly, he tugged the slacks off those thighs and off those long legs.

Feeling the man shift beneath him, Daryan had no idea how quick it happened. One moment he was straddling Klavier, about to undo his pants and fuck him into oblivion. The next, he was on his back, rubbing the back of his head. Ow. Cracking your head off the kitchen floor was not his favorite past time. He finally opened his eyes to see Klavier, sapphire eyes smoldering, climbing over him like some graceful feline. Hot damn. Gavin was the finest thing on two legs – or would it be four right now? – when he was turned on.

"Herr Cresend." Whoa, Klavier's voice dropped down an octave. His trademark smile was now a smirk one would find on a demon of sorts. "Call me a princess again and I don't think I'll be working with you much longer." Oh, that fucking prick.

"Tch. You know, Gavin, you do look like a priss when you're prancing around her—Oh _shit!_" His comeback was caught off with a gasp when he felt Klavier put his knee over the growing bulge in his pants. "You little…

"What was that, Herr Cresend?" Klavier asked around the zipper of guitarist's pants. "I can't hear you. You might have to speak up, ja?" Grabbing the pull with his front teeth, he slowly watched the metal teeth come apart. He learned this trick that drove his friend absolutely bonkers on accident. They were both drunk one night, Daryan bet twenty bucks that Klavier couldn't do it and Klavier proved him wrong. It was a win-win situation; Gavin got the twenty bucks, Cresend got the best damn head he had ever received.

As much as he would love to be blown right about now, Daryan just wanted to fuck Klavier all wrong on the kitchen floor. It wasn't that much to ask. Sitting up and tackling his blonde partner, he laughed (even though it sounded like a mad cackle) out of victory. In his rightful place, – on top of the prosecutor, hands pinning him to the surface beneath them – Daryan gazed down and took in the clouded eyes, the slightly parted lips and the glistening skin.

Oh yes. He had won this time.

Finally ridding himself of the rest of his attire, Daryan grabbed Klavier's legs and pulled them around his hips. Without warning (or any preparation,) they joined with both a sigh and a painful groan.

God, did it hurt like a fucking bitch. He liked it rough but God damn it, Daryan! Give him so warning next time! Even if Daryan was gentle this time around, he still couldn't be able to walk straight. No lube, no smooth move.

Daryan arched over the blonde slightly and started to move his hips in the fashion that his ancestors have done so many times in the past. His strokes started out gentle but started to pick up in both pace and roughness. Leaning forward completely, he grabbed the back of Klavier's head and he closed his lips against the other man's in a fierce lip lock.

As the pain started to fade, Klavier went from a tense piece of flesh to a puddle of flaccid goo. He couldn't keep neither his eyes nor his mouth shut. He started to moan, pant and sigh into the space between them. Finally giving up, he shut his eyes and leaned his head back. He felt his head being tilt back forward and lips joining with his. He automatically answered with his fingernails digging into the detective's back.

Two rockstars, used to rocking on the stage, were rocking to a whole new tune on the kitchen floor.

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Sitting at the table in his favorite French diner, Kristoph Gavin checked his watch again. 2:57p.m. That brother of his was almost three hours late. Sighing in discontent, he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. His angry mumbling almost drowned out the little "bleep bleep bleep!" of his cell phone. Oh, a text message.

The text message had a picture attachment. It was his brother; limp, spent and covered in his own seed. "Bitch, this boy's mine. Love, Daryan." The lawyer flipped his phone shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose out of disgust.

Kristoph Gavin never wanted to harpoon a shark so much in his life.

~Fin~

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Thanks for reading! Reviews are loved.

-Chikara


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